How much are those pussies in the window?

Mutterings continued.

I came home tonight to find two furry faces looking out of the bedroom (Gus) and loungeroom (Milo) windows. I'd like to think they were welcoming me home but I suspect they just wanted their dinner.

From the Guardian: "Do the heroes of 60s and 70s rock and pop have anything to offer the young? Or are they just surfing a wave of nostalgia? We sent Sam Wetherell, 17, along to their gigs to tell us (after we told him who Kraftwerk were and what Paul McCartney looks like)." I sympathise with him - I can't see what the fuss about Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett is.

His comment on The Who: "Eventually, two middle-aged blokes emerged on stage under biblical spotlighting. Their first song, Who Are You?, was a primitive howl. The balder of the two (who had made the interesting decision to wear wraparound sunglasses) treated his guitar like a musical punch-bag, while the singer bounded around the stage, stopping occasionally to take a sip from a cup of tea. I had never knowingly heard a song by the Who until that moment, and it completely blew me away. It was heart-wrenching, belligerent rock music, authoritative and powerful, but at times almost paradoxically tender." What a shame he never got to see the incomparable Moonie.

I bought a copy of the Keith Moon biog "Dear Boy" from Angus and Robertson on line yesterday. Bargain at $29 (including postage). Graham Chapman, a fellow alcoholic, had some interesting things to say about him in his Liar's Autobiography (a book I read so often it fell apart and I had to buy the hardcover). "Keith was kindness itself and never harmed anyone in his escapades, which certainly brightened up many lives... Keith is one person I know I'll see again."

Movie Mistakes' HPatPoA stuff ups count = 39. Hmmm, there were 40 yesterday.